


i'd be appalled if i ever saw you try to be a saint

by look_up



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Non-binary character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-21
Updated: 2019-03-21
Packaged: 2019-11-27 02:00:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18188327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/look_up/pseuds/look_up
Summary: how could you hate one of the only constants in your life?





	i'd be appalled if i ever saw you try to be a saint

**Author's Note:**

> title from my dude hozier's "nobody"
> 
> wanted to work on my other fic but i couldnt stop thinking about this? idk why but. here it is
> 
> also, using they/them for both the doctor and the master.

 

They’ve known each other forever.

 

Literally, in most beings’ eyes.

 

Still, they’d never quite synced up — except, maybe, for a time at the Academy. But even that, they don’t quite agree on. It’s complicated, like everything in their lives.

 

Every time they meet, there is a sort of electricity in the air. More often than not, it’s a bad tension — of the murder kind. 

 

Yet. They keep meeting. Regardless of how last time went, of how vast the universe is, they cannot avoid each other. They also cannot seem to die.

 

The Doctor thought they were done many times. They’d hoped, wished,  _ dreamed _ of never seeing the Master again. But —no matter what — some part of them always relished at the sight of their face, whichever one it was.

 

Some sort of love — or affection, at least — lingered, no matter what. Sort of inevitable, when there’s only two of you left, and a side-effect of an intense relationship. The Doctor mourns them, when they believe them dead. Every time, even when they stop believing they’re truly gone.

 

The Doctor’s angry at them, always. They always will be, they cannot truly forgive them for what they’ve done. But each new face, they hope. Maybe this time, it’ll be different. Never as much as with Missy — and never again, they decided. They wouldn’t be tricked again. 

 

And then something reminds them of the old days. Of Koschei and Theta, of an orange sky, of mischief and youth and some sort of innocence. Back when it was easy to just be, without death and trauma and constant danger. 

 

And they wish they could go back, for a second. When they’re tired, or alone, or when they decided that being drunk was a good idea. And then they don’t. It happens more than they want, though. 

 

They’re more alike than they pretend, too. Maybe the reason they can’t seem to let go of the Master is that they’re a version of who the Doctor might’ve been, given the circumstances. They could oh so easily get caught up in each other and forget all about being good and kind. The Master makes them want to be selfish in a way that makes them  _ terrified _ . 

 

They’d be willing to sacrifice so much to end it. 

 

* * *

 

They don’t know if that means killing the Master or making them good. Most of the time, it doesn’t matter.

 

* * *

 

They’re best friends, after all. They’re more, sometimes. They’re nothing, most of the time. 

 

They couldn’t imagine the Master being any other way. They wouldn’t want them to be.

 

As much as the Doctor hates to admit it, they don’t know if they could survive losing them for good. They’ve saved them before, they’ll do it again.

 

But there will be no more chances.

 

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading!!


End file.
